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In May of 2000,
Elizabeth Kolbe, fourteen years old, was paralyzed in a car accident with a
spinal cord injury at C6-7. That night, unable to move, Beth reassured her mom,
saying, “I’m okay. Everything will be
okay.”

Two surgeries
and two weeks later, Beth transferred to a rehab hospital in Green Springs,
Ohio, to work with an extraordinary physical therapist who was an expert in
spinal cord injury. The first time in therapy, laying on her stomach, Beth
could not lift her shoulders off the mat. At all.

“When I was injured, I really had no idea what was in store for me.”

Beth and her mom became a
team, the younger one shy but determined. No progress in the first weeks,
despite strenuous effort, exposed the extent of her hope. Incrementally, over
more weeks, she learned how to sit up by herself and how to begin to use her
hands.

“I had to relearn how to do everything.”

The neurosurgeon
thought her injury was complete, with the spinal cord cut through, but a strand
remained since she had a small return of sensation in her legs and trunk.
Still, no leg movement, except for spasms. For the first wheelchair of her own,
she insisted on a manual chair so she would get stronger faster. She also cut
her stay in the rehab hospital short to start her freshman year of high school
on time with her friends.

“Early on, I decided that I was going to
become completely independent no matter how long it took.”

In the pool for
outpatient physical therapy, Beth
gradually learned how to float. She found freedom in the water at a time when
movement on land was grueling. Not a swimmer before her injury, she loved to float across the pool with her arms
waving gently under the surface.

“I started doing the backstroke. Then,
learning to swim on my stomach and still breathe was a big challenge initially.I basically swim with my upper body and pull my entire body with my
arms. Since my hands can't cup the water, my arms do all the work. It would be
something like an able-bodied swimmer with their legs tied together and their
hands in fists.”

Beth noticed an unusual sign
in Seattle on her first swim trip to the USA Swimming Disability Nationals. She
saw a billboard with a girl in a power chair wearing a graduation gown. The
caption said, “Quadriplegia at Harvard: A+.”

“Harvard first got my attention because
of the national billboard campaign, which suggests an appreciation of the
contributions that students with disabilities can make.”

The billboard
pictured Brooke Ellison, who graduated from Harvard in 2000. Before her senior
year of high school, Beth competed at Junior Nationals in Connecticut and
requested a last minute stop to see a college that was not on her list of
possibilities.

“I toured the Harvard campus and just
fell in love with it.”

Beth applied to Harvard but didn’t tell anyone because she
didn’t think she would get in. She joined her high school swim team. With no
lift at the pool, her teammates helped her in and out of the water, but she
decided at the first practice that she would get dressed in the locker room
without her mom’s help, starting with loose sweat pants over a wet suit. The
only finger she could control, her left index, could move three inches up or
down. Using this small gift to her full advantage, the only adaptive aid she
depended on was a key holder.

“I
was able to score quite a few points in high school. My coach put me in the
harder events that nobody wanted to do, like the butterfly. Since the top three
swimmers scored, as long as I finished I would score points.”

The first in her family to attend an
Ivy League school, she moved
into a freshman dorm in the fall of 2004; since she would not miss the first
month of college, she declined her spot on Team USA for the Athens Paralympics.

“I heard stories from the other swimmers,
but I don’t have any regrets. I knew I’d have more chances.”

Beth’s freshman
year, as manager for Harvard Women's Swimming and Diving, she practiced with
the team twice a week. She tried to read every word of her
assignments, swam four or five days a week, volunteered in a special ed. class
every Friday, and attained independence without an assistant, a rare feat for
those with quadriplegia. She also had no social life. Her first New England
winter, she ended up at the health center with mild frostbite in her fingers
from wheeling through snow, despite wearing gloves. In the spring, she was
invited to join the Harvard Women’s Swimming team, the first full varsity
member with a visible disability. She practiced six days a week with her
teammates and competed at every home meet.

“I couldn’t imagine a better college
experience and a large part of that was being a member of the Harvard Women’s
Swimming and Diving team.”

Beth spent the summer of 2006 in Washington,
DC. Fiercely independent, she learned to sometimes accept a push up Capitol
Hill from the Metro stop, especially when it was raining. Otherwise, if anyone
started to push her chair, she turned and lightly smacked their hand. She interned
for Secretary of State John Kerry (then Senator) and joined him on the Senate
floor for the stem cell debate. Before she started her junior year of college,
she earned a bronze medal at her second World Cup in England and changed her
major from biology to health care policy.

“I spent my summer in DC where I fell in
love with the excitement on the Hill and the chance to make policy that makes a
difference.”

Beth’s friend
Brittany volunteered with her in special ed. classrooms every week. Brittany’s
dad had a spinal cord injury. Beth’s last year at Harvard, Brittany convinced
her to venture out beyond her bubble of swimming, classes, assignments, and
volunteering. She refused to let inaccessibility get in their way. When one of
the river houses had a party with no elevator, Brittany carried her on the
stairs. The broken elevator at the Harvard T stop was not a problem, either. Beth
learned that the world is welcoming, even in a wheelchair—with the help of a
strong friend.

“Brittany got me out of my shell during my
senior year. Before then, I hardly ever went out socially. ...Strong friends
are worth their weight in gold.”

Beth’s
confidence bloomed as she traveled to cities near and far for swim
meets. She competed on the U.S. Paralympic National Team for five years
and on the Harvard Women’s Swimming team for three. She surprised people by getting to the
airport on her own and sometimes flying by herself. She
showered and changed in locker rooms efficiently after countless swim
practices, though she still needed an extra minute for the zipper on her skinny
jeans. All roads led to the
Beijing Paralympics in 2008 and the end of an era. Her competition included
three new, fast S3 swimmers. She wrote about her most memorable 50-meter event
in China.

“I swam a 1:10.55, a
best time and a new American Record, which places me fifth in the world. What a
great race!”

She
retired from competitive swimming with fourteen Paralympic American Records.
Eleven remain. She discovered the outdoor pools at Stanford and loved to swim
under the sun in every season.

Beth at Stanford

“My injury altered and enriched my
perspective and opened a wealth of opportunities that have defined my passions
and goals.”

At
Stanford Law School, Beth served as Co-President of the Stanford Law
Association and President of the National Association of Law Students with
Disabilities, only two of many activities that earned her the Dean's Award for
Excellence in Service at graduation.

“Disability rights in general is becoming a bigger
issue. It’s filtering into the law school environment. More students with
disabilities are going to law school which is incredibly encouraging.”

Beth
passed the bar exam and moved to her favorite city, Washington, DC, to work as
a health care policy lawyer for a firm on K Street. She served on the American Bar Association’s Commission on
Disability Rights and helped people qualify for social security disability
benefits, continuing the pro bono work she began in law school at a homeless
shelter.

“They appreciate that there is someone who is helping them who
understands what it's like to be disabled. Anytime anyone has an
interesting life experience or has overcome obstacles in the past, they have a
different take on things.It's made me more interested in the
client perspective.”

A
reporter asked her what she is most proud of. She answered with no hesitation.

“Becoming independent. That
is my greatest achievement.”

Beth
continues to mentor, as she has since her accident. She works long days on
health policy and is a lobbyist on Capitol Hill for clients who serve people
with disabilities. Her pro bono work includes legal battles for individuals who
have been denied necessary medical services. She wheels long distances, but
also uses Uber (cars, not the higher SUVs), since taxi drivers usually avoid
picking her up because of her wheelchair. She transfers into the back seat
independently and explains to the driver how to take the big wheels off her
chair so it fits in the trunk. She plays as hard as she works. She loves to
cook for brunch or dinner parties with friends and travels often with her
boyfriend.

As
Beth said sixteen years ago, “I’m okay.
Everything will be okay.”

Beth with her family

Note:

Thank you mobileWOMEN for
requesting this feature! About a decade after my daughter Beth’s injury, I felt
compelled to write about my struggles with guilt after I fell asleep at the
wheel and caused her disability. With Beth’s encouragement, I wrote a memoir
and added her voice from media quotes and essays. I share the highlights on my
blog: www.strugglingwithserendipity.com*Cindy Barnes Kolbe